When Evangeline Fox had lived as a stone statue, her life had become stagnant. As still as a forgotten pond, untouched by rain or pebbles or time. She did not move. She did not change. But she felt. She felt so very much. Loneliness touched with hints of regret, or hope colored by impatience. It was never just one pure emotion. It was always one thing plus another. Exactly like today.
The scars on Evangeline’s wrist had stopped burning. They no longer felt as if Jacks had just bitten into them. But her insides were still a riot of butterflies as she reached the pretty door to Marisol’s room. White with a transom window, the door had once been Evangeline’s.
Evangeline knew Marisol hadn’t stolen the room; she’d moved in at her stepmother’s urging when Evangeline had been stone. As soon as Evangeline had returned, Marisol had tried to give it back. But Evangeline had felt guilty then, and she’d let her stepsister keep the room. Evangeline still felt guilty. But right now, it was a different sort of guilt, a guilt that came because she couldn’t bring herself to knock on the door that had once been hers and invite Marisol to the North.
Evangeline just kept thinking that Luc had also once been hers. And though Evangeline was more determined than ever to let go of Luc, perhaps she hadn’t completely let go of the idea of Marisol and Luc. It was one of those things she tried not to consider. She didn’t believe that Marisol had known Evangeline loved Luc—Marisol had always been so kind and timid.
She didn’t seem capable of stealing a book, let alone a boy. But it was hard not to wonder.
What if Marisol had known Evangeline loved Luc? What if she’d knowingly stolen him, and what if Evangeline found love again in the North and Marisol took it once more?
Evangeline’s hand hovered in between knocking and lowering.
When …
“Mother, please—” Marisol’s words weren’t particularly loud, but the narrow hall was so quiet, Evangeline could hear them through the door. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true, my little girl.” Agnes’s voice was like treacle. Too sweet to actually be palatable. “You have let yourself go these past few months. Look at you. Your complexion. Your hair. Your posture is like a damp ribbon, and those circles beneath your eyes are hideous. A man might be able to overlook your little cursed reputation if you were something to look at, but I can barely tolerate the sight—”
Evangeline opened the door, unable to hear another cruel word.
Poor Marisol was sitting on her pale pink bed, and she did look like a wilted ribbon, though it was probably because Agnes had trampled all over her. Whatever Marisol was or wasn’t, she was also a victim of Agnes. But unlike Evangeline, Marisol had been living with this awful woman her entire life.
“Do you have any manners?” Agnes shrieked.
Evangeline desperately wanted to say that Agnes was the one lacking in manners and kindness, as well as a few other things. But angering her further was probably not the wisest idea right now.
Evangeline forced herself to say, “I’m sorry,” instead. “I have news I thought you’d both like to hear right away.”
Agnes immediately narrowed her eyes. Marisol covertly wiped at hers.
And Evangeline felt further convinced that going north for Nocte Neverending was exactly what she and Marisol both needed. Marisol might have needed it even more. Evangeline couldn’t believe she’d considered not asking her. Looking at her now, Evangeline couldn’t imagine her stepsister
even thinking about stealing Luc from her, and even if she had, wasn’t Luc the one Evangeline should have really been blaming?
“Well?” Agnes said. “What is it, girl?”
“Today I met with the empress,” Evangeline announced. “The crown prince of the Magnificent North is having a ball, and the empress has asked me to be the Meridian Empire’s ambassador. Transportation, lodging, and clothing have all been taken care of. I’ll leave one week from today, and I want to bring Marisol with me.”
Marisol glowed as if Evangeline had given her a bouquet of wishing stars.
But Agnes didn’t say a word. She looked vaguely haunted as if she’d seen a ghost or a glimpse of her own wicked heart. Evangeline was almost certain she’d say no when she opened her pinched mouth. But instead, Agnes’s voice was far too sweet again as she clapped and said, “What wonderful news! Of course you can go and take Marisol with you.”
